Cupid's Night
by crimsonthread
Summary: AU. PreOotP. Prequel to Cupid's Egg. Sirius mentioned, in Cupid's Egg, that Lily had disappeared for a month the previous year in France. What happened to her then? And who is really the father of her baby?
1. Chapter 1: The Man at the Ministry

**Cupid's Night**

Disclaimer & A/N: Largely Chiho Saito's. Random characters and situations from J. K. Rowling. This is a "prequel" to "Cupid's Egg," that other fic I started and didn't have the decency to finish…yet. ;) Um, I'll try to continue posting chapters of that one soon. I couldn't resist jumping to this fic, though (I planned to start it after I finished Cupid's Egg, but my attention span is short and I needed something to distract me from my standstill for Cupid's Egg…). I'm sorry for the lame summary...it sounds like a bad soap opera. Oh well. :)

**Chapter 1: The Man at the Ministry; and a Pensieve**

Lily Evans sighed impatiently as she stood in line at one of the French Ministry of Magic's security checkpoints. What with heightened security due to Voldemort's attacks lately, she would be lucky to be on her way in an hour. It had been about fifteen minutes so far and the line didn't seem to be moving.

"Typical…just typical…" she sighed to herself; then pulled out some paperwork to peruse. She might as well get something done while waiting.

Five minutes later, the line finally began to move. Lily, immersed in her papers, didn't notice at first. She was jostled by an impatient witch in a purple cloak, and dropped her sheaf of papers on the floor. They fluttered every which way, and she couldn't help letting out a small cry of exasperation as she threw the witch a dirty look.

As she bent to pick up her papers, she managed to drop another folder she'd been holding. As she had been moving forward, the folder flew further from her through the air and smacked a young wizard in the leg.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, struggling to pick up all her papers. She accidentally knocked into the hand of the wizard she'd just hit; he had bent and was helping her pick up her papers. "Oh! Excuse me," she said hurriedly, pulling back and looking up.

He had messy black hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing black robes of a stylish cut and there was a faint, delicious smell of cologne about him. "It's all right," he smiled, handing her the rest of the documents. His expression was intelligent and he was incredibly good-looking.

Lily could feel a blush rising. She clutched her folder to her chest and tried to think of something to say.

"Thank you so much," she finally managed to get out. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you."

He smiled again and indicated that she ought to take the spot ahead of him in line. "Your French is very good," he said pleasantly, in that language. "If it weren't for all these English documents and the forms you have from the British Ministry of Magic, I should have assumed you were French."

If she hadn't already been blushing, she would be now, she thought. The line suddenly began to move, and they moved forward together quite companionably. "Thank you. Are you…?" she asked hesitantly, as they shuffled on.

"Oh, I'm French," he smiled. "Unfortunately, my English is atrocious."

They took a few more steps and made a few passing observations on the comparative security measures being taken in France and England. The French Ministry officials were now moving down the line, making thorough checks on everyone and everything before motioning most of them on. A few individuals were retained and several were escorted from the room by some scary-looking Hit-wizards.

"Are you in France for business?" he asked finally, when the officials had nearly arrived at their place in line.

"You could say that," she chuckled wryly. She had apparated to France that morning to investigate some rumors Terrence had heard from certain contacts in France—rumors about secret societies practicing the Dark Arts…but she couldn't very well tell a random stranger about _that_. She showed the officials her identification and allowed them to perform the cursory spells verifying that she wasn't carrying illegal potions in her handbag.

"I'm my father's personal secretary, and I'm meant to run a few errands for him on my way home from Italy…"

They were being ushered toward the doors by the wizards making checks. He grinned at her lopsidedly and gathered his things. "Quite the seasoned traveler, then, aren't you?"

They reached the busy street outside the Ministry wards soon enough and stopped, collecting their things and standing awkwardly there, not knowing what to do next. Lily wondered whether they were going to finally introduce themselves, or whether they would merely say goodbye and go their separate ways. She decided to take the initiative, and held out her hand.

"Well, I certainly wish I had a secretary as lovely as you," he said cheerfully, kissing her proffered hand in a charming way. Lily normally hated those fake chivalrous moves that wizards of all ages always seemed to affect when in her presence, but she couldn't help liking this wizard, with his rakish black hair and twinkling hazel eyes. If they were back in Britain, if he were a British wizard she met at the Ministry, maybe…but there was no use wondering about that…and what was he saying?

"It's been a pleasure," he said smoothly, inclining his head. He took a firmer grip on his case and winked once more at her before turning and striding off into the crowd. Within seconds, he was gone.

After arriving at her hotel and taking a long, leisurely bath, during which she recreated her image of the ideal wizard to include mischievous hazel eyes, she threw some powder in the fire and made some calls.

"Chartier?"

The little wizard jumped several feet in the air—his head bounced in the fireplace and nearly hit the grate. He adjusted his spectacles before stuttering, "Y-y-yes? Ah, Miss Evans…"

"Yes, Chartier. I'm in Paris, in my hotel. We received news the other day about some sort of secret society practicing Dark Arts…the informant said you knew more about it."

"Hm…well. I do have some information for you, but nothing about a secret society of Dark Arts. Nothing so serious," He glanced about suspiciously, then said in a low voice, "But I feel it would be…safer…if I were to tell you this in a more…secure…place?"

"But we were told specifically that there was something to do with Volde—well, I mean You-Know-Who." M. Chartier was looking appalled at Lily's almost saying the Dark Lord's name directly and breathed a noticeable sigh of relief when Lily reverted to his popular nickname. "It was something about a few of the Death Eaters coming to France and rallying supporters of You-Know-Who…"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," sniffed Chartier, scowling. "Either way, meet me at Madeleine's at eight o'clock tonight, and wear Muggle clothing. You don't want to stand out." With that, his head disappeared. Lily, frustrated, would have called him again and demanded an explanation, but felt that under the circumstances, Chartier probably wouldn't respond.

Madeleine's was a Muggle restaurant located near a seedier part of downtown. Despite its decrepit façade, however, its interior was elegant by most standards and it was known to serve fantastic desserts. Lily arrived promptly five minutes before eight and was escorted to a small table in a back corner. She wore a neat serge skirt and old silk blouse she had found at a shop around the corner from her hotel, and her hair was tied back in a tight braid.

She ordered a drink and appetizer and settled back to wait. The restaurant had a very nice atmosphere generally, but the corner she was sitting in was very dark, and the table was a little isolated from the rest. She was glad when they brought her wine and lit more candles about her.

It was nine thirty before she finally gave up on Chartier and ordered supper. She wasn't about to let him ruin her appetite. He was probably in a snit about her demanding straight away to know about news he wasn't prepared to divulge. Or maybe he was upset that he didn't know about this secret society business—Chartier liked to think he was an irreplaceable informant, several steps ahead of everyone else.

"Miss Evans?" A young man broke into her reverie. He was dressed in proper Muggle fashion, but she could see the tip of his wand sticking out of his jacket pocket. "Chartier sent me."

"Yes?" she responded immediately. "Where is he? Has something happened?"

"Please come with me," was all he said. Reluctantly, she picked up her purse and left money on the table to pay for her meal. She followed him as he left through a back door and led her down various dark passageways. As they turned what must have been the fifth corner, her mind began shouting at her to turn, something was wrong, she didn't want to continue down that dark corridor…

They arrived at a large room at the end of the corridor while she wondered what to do.

"OW!" As soon as she'd crossed the threshold she was thrown against the wall by some invisible force. Before she could move to pull her wand from the place she'd concealed it in her stocking, invisible cords had wound themselves around her and clamped her to the wall.

"What do you want?? Where's Chartier??" she cried angrily.

"Shut up!" a harsh voice said. She looked up but all she could see were shadows—shadows of people surrounding her, wands drawn.

"We heard you have it," one of the voices said angrily. "We heard you have the pensieve! Chartier said a British woman named Lily Evans had the pensieve. That's you, isn't it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" she shrieked, as the cords pulled at her arms painfully. "I've never had a pensieve!"

A few of the wizards had her purse and were rifling through its contents. She remembered with a feeling of relief that she had only some spare cash and accessories inside.

"Yes, look through my purse! You'll see that I don't know what you're talking about!" Mentally she wondered why they would be searching her purse for a pensieve. It wasn't exactly something that could be carried about in a woman's purse, was it?

One of the figures tugged worriedly at another's arm. "Are you sure we've got the right person, Gerard? Chartier said she was British, but this woman seems French to me…"

"It's her," he said sharply, shaking the other person off. In a louder voice, he yelled, "Forget the purse! Strip her and search her clothing and her person—if she won't submit quietly use the Cruciatus—"

"NO!" Lily screamed and struggled as several figures grabbed her and someone aimed a wand at her chest. A muttered word, and she was screaming in pain, screaming until her throat was hoarse—she must have used every single profane French expression she could think of but it wasn't enough—

All at once, the room was flooded with light. A figure was outlined in the doorway.

"What's going on here?" he demanded. Strangely, his voice reminded Lily of someone…

Lights flickered to life around the room and the man at the door moved into the room. He was shrouded in a dark cloak, with the hood pulled low over his face.

"Who was the one who ordered this woman be searched?" he said again, approaching her. Lily wracked her brain to place the voice. She'd heard it somewhere, sometime recent…

The man called Gerard stepped forward. "Jean, Chartier said he gave a British woman the pensieve. We had to get it back! He said she would be waiting for him at the restaurant tonight, and gave us a description…"

The figure was now standing before Lily. She tried to peer under the folds of the hood to see the man's face, but it was pulled far too low. He was still looking at Gerard, though, not at her.

"How do you know it's this girl?" he said bluntly. "She speaks French quite well…I could hear her screaming from down the hall. You might have cast a silencing charm, if you were planning to go about things this way."

Several of the figures hung their heads and looked the other way.

"I didn't say anything about torturing people for information, much less using the Cruciatus. Besides which, this girl doesn't have the pensieve on her…what's the point of torturing her for something she doesn't have and doesn't seem to know anything about? Let her go."

He flicked his wand and calmly, coolly, took Lily's arm and led her out of the building. None of the other people made a move to stop him.

They arrived at the street and the figure—Jean, she supposed—indicated that she should precede him into the waiting car. She didn't have much choice, she thought, since he still held her arms. Her hair had come loose from its braid and now hung in heavy waves about her face. The two of them settled into the car as it began to move.

"We'll drop you off wherever you wish," Jean sighed. He pulled the hood from his face tiredly and rubbed his eyes.

_What is this pensieve that they keep talking about? It must be important…and they were willing to perform Unforgivables to get it back. So they're affiliated with the Dark Arts? And Jean…who is he?_ Lily twisted her hands in her lap, not hearing Jean as he made idle conversation. _What happened to Chartier, I wonder? Where could he have gone? Did he really tell these people that I had a pensieve? Why would he do that…_

Jean had turned to scrutinize Lily, finally. As they passed below a streetlight, the glow illuminated her face, half-covered as it was by red-gold hair. Her green eyes were full of tears of helplessness. She turned to him—and started.

"It's you—" they both said simultaneously. Lily stared with wide eyes at the man in the cloak—it was the man from the Ministry that morning! The same messy black hair, the same hazel eyes…

The events of the evening, with all their pain and confusion, were too much for her. She fainted dead away.

* * *

(I love the new ff.net quick-edit option! And I'm sorry to end this chapter at a sort of bad place...um, I'll try to update soon? :D)


	2. Chapter 2: A New Situation

**Chapter 2: A New Situation**

**Disclaimers & A/N: **The usual. J.K.Rowling, Chiho Saito. Take your pick. This prequel is based off the same series of stories mentioned in "Cupid's Egg." The names of the stories were "Cupid's Egg" and "Cupid's Night" (or maybe, more directly translating, "The Night Cupid Arrived"), which is why I've titled them thus. Believe me, if I could think of something better I would totally go for it. Until then, though, here it is. I promise I'll go back to "Cupid's Egg" now. I've got a decent number of pages written for it, but I haven't included all the events I'd planned, yet, so it's still coming…

* * *

Lily woke slowly and immediately panicked.

She was in an unfamiliar room, richly furnished. She was wrapped in silk sheets—also unfamiliar. It was also not her usual habit to sleep in the nude, which she had apparently been doing. As she started to sit up to look for her clothes (she moaned in pain…she was sore everywhere!), though, she discovered the most disconcerting thing about the situation: the fact that _there was someone else in bed with her._

She turned and almost screamed. She restrained herself at the last minute, but not before a frightened squeak escaped her. The man next to her shifted, and his eyes opened. For a second, he blinked at Lily (who was staring at him as though he was some sort of freakish monster), and then, without warning, he smiled. It was an adorable, lopsided grin. It completely threw her off.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, as though nothing was wrong and it was entirely normal for him to wake up in bed with strangers. His eyes traveled slowly down from her bare shoulders and his smile abruptly went from cheerful to wolfish. Lily crossed her arms over her chest as a reflex.

She opened her mouth to speak—closed it again—opened it again—clamped it shut. Her voice, when it finally came out, was several octaves higher than usual. "Who—what—how—WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES?? Why am I here? _Who are you?!?!?_"

He blinked again, then chuckled as he got out of bed. Lily noticed, with the tiniest bit of relief, that he was wearing pajama pants. She clutched the bedsheet to her chest and frowned at him, waiting for a response. Her eyes searched the room for anything she could defend herself with—her clothes weren't around, and neither was her wand, but that lamp on the bedside table looked like a possible weapon…

He was fumbling around with his cloak, which was draped across a chair. The black hooded garment reminded her of the figure showing up in the doorway last night, just as she was recovering from the pain of the Cruciatus Curse—and suddenly the memories of the previous day came rushing back.

She weighed the possibilities, and as Jean (that was his name, she thought she remembered) pulled a wand from his cloak pocket, she made her move. Within two seconds, she was out of bed (sheet still clutched tightly to her chest) and had thrown the lamp at him.

He ducked—just barely. The lamp missed him by inches and shattered against the wall behind him. By the time he looked up, though, she had the sheet wrapped securely around her body and was holding a number of objects from the bedside table—a book, a vase, a funny wizard timepiece—and looked ready to send all projectiles his way.

"Stop, stop!" he cried, holding his hands up in the universal 'I surrender all' gesture. "Don't throw anything else! I won't hurt you!"

As he was still holding a wand—two wands, she noticed, one probably hers—she found it a little hard to believe his claim of goodwill.

"Catch," he said hastily, throwing one of the wands at her. She dropped the book just in time to catch the wand neatly in one hand. The familiar feel of the polished willow in her hand reassured her somewhat, and she ducked down on the other side of the bed.

"Explain," she said, hoping her voice sounded menacing. It didn't; he laughed again and slowly lowered his hands. But he stopped laughing when he saw where she was aiming the wand.

"Well…" he began, seating himself in the chair. Lily didn't budge from her position behind the bed. "I must begin by apologizing about your clothes. They were in shreds after the—ah—incident in the Madeleine's storeroom last night…and absolutely filthy." Seeing the look on her face and the threatening swishing motion she made with her wand in the air he sat up, alarmed, and hastened to assure her: "But I didn't see anything, I swear! Well, not much! I mean, I turned my head away when we were, um, cleaning you up…it was a simple Scourgify charm, and I levitated you into the bed, and…I would never…" His voice trailed off lamely as he watched Lily with her wand.

Lily decided she had bigger things to worry about than why she woke up naked. It didn't seem they'd done anything…she'd been out cold, and he didn't seem sick enough to make a pass at a comatose woman. In another life, a small voice in the back of her head snickered, she might have actually enjoyed getting involved with a man who looked…but that was completely irrelevant. What she REALLY wanted to know now was why the hell she had been tortured.

"What pensieve were they looking for?" she asked bluntly. "And why did they think I would have it? What's Chartier got to do with any of this?"

Jean looked at her thoughtfully. "You _are_ Lily Evans, are you not? Terrence Carruthers' daughter?"

"_Adopted_ daughter," she stressed, eyes narrowed. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Well,…I'm not sure either." He shrugged slightly. "All I know is that…ah, I suppose we had better start from the beginning."

Lily quirked an eyebrow at him in an "I'm not amused" sort of way.

"My full name is Jean-Pierre Laurant. The people you met last night consisted of my…associates…in our little group of…researchers…"

"Researchers?? Looked like a group of mercenaries to me."

"Well…we research all brands of magic. That is, well, of recent years, we've been mainly concerned with learning more about the Dark Arts…the history, the spells, the connections with other types of magic, and methods of defense…"

"Isn't most of that sort of thing illegal? It is in England, and I'm certain there were similar regulations for France…"

"Yes. Which is why we're forced to conduct most of our…research…in secret."

"So this is some sort of underground Dark Arts society? Oh, great. Wonderful."

"I wouldn't put it like _that_. The Dark side is rising, as you know, and we just thought we ought to be prepared. For whatever comes next."

"By learning to become proficient at the Dark Arts? So, what, you can join with Voldemort and torture innocent Muggles?"

He looked startled, and then he smiled again. "It's good to hear you say his name aloud. Most people won't, anymore. It's not our intention to join the Dark Lord, though he _did_ send a sort of envoy to recruit our members…"

Alarm bells went off in Lily's head, and she did her best to remain calm. "An envoy?"

"Yes." His brow furrowed as he remembered their visit. "I believe they were two well-to-do British wizards…a haughty-looking blonde man, and another, younger man with dark hair and a slight build." He paused, thinking. "The younger one was named…Lesta…Lestrange, yes."

_Lestrange…and the other HAD to have been Malfoy. Wait until Terrence hears about this!_ Lily thought gleefully, before remembering that she had to find a way to contact someone in England, or find a way back herself (preferably), to tell anyone anything.

"Anyway," Jean continued, watching Lily more closely now. His expression had changed from lighthearted to deadly in a split second. "The two of them proposed a lot of empty, stupid-sounding ideas and told us to let them know our answer. We've decided not to join them …I believe there are some major discrepancies between our core values and theirs, and we have no interest in taking part in some sort of messy, violent movement centered in England. Meanwhile, we're trying to find ways to prepare for what might come. Given the current state of affairs in the French Ministry, we're not sure it will hold up if Voldemort gains significant power in Britain. Right now, the Ministry is refusing to acknowledge Voldemort's existence."

Lily shivered, and remembered she was wearing just a sheet. She was too proud and too greedy for more information to ask for clothes at this point in the conversation, though, and motioned for him to go on. "What about the pensieve?"

"Our society has recorded most of our doings in a communal pensieve…or something very like a pensieve. It disappeared a few days ago. In it are the names of all the members of our group, as well as all the information we've collected and records of all the experiments we've done. We couldn't afford to have this fall into the wrong hands. We had news that it in the possession of a M. Chartier. I believe you know—knew him?"

"Yes, but—wait, what do you mean, 'knew'? And how did he get the pensieve?"

Jean looked vaguely uncomfortable. "He was murdered yesterday evening, while you waited for him in the restaurant. We believe that whoever did it has the pensieve now."

Lily gasped. Chartier…dead?? She hadn't known him well at all, and hadn't particularly liked him, but still…

His expression changed from discomfort to plain anger. "Apparently, he had a contact that knew how to get the pensieve from our hiding place…which could only mean that we have a traitor in our midst. Someone is trying to release the information we have to an outside party.

"We contacted him earlier in the evening to find out what he'd done with the pensieve. I must admit we threatened him quite a bit before he told us you had it. Then we staked out the restaurant and waited for you. We waited to see if Chartier would show up, but he didn't, so…"

"But I DON'T have it!" exclaimed Lily, outraged. "I didn't have any idea! Why should Chartier push this onto me?!?"

Jean nodded sadly. "We searched your hotel room and your baggage, and didn't find anything."

"See?!" Lily was getting angrier and angrier. Had they NO respect for other people's privacy?? You didn't just go and root through someone else's belongings with practically NO evidence that what you wanted was even there! "This has nothing to do with me! I'm in France investigating some rumors we'd heard about Dark Arts activity—"

Suddenly she realized that she had been sent to investigate the group Jean was currently involved in. By the looks of the meeting last night, actually, he was probably something like the ringleader. And if what he told her was true, they weren't another sort of Voldemort support group springing up in France…but once Voldemort found out that he couldn't have their support, what would he do? Grow angry, certainly. Go to drastic extents to extinguish them? Perhaps. Or would he have to, once he got hold of something like the pensieve, which recorded everything the group had ever done…

Jean was watching her warily, an indecipherable look in his eyes. "You're here investigating _us_, aren't you?"

Straight to the point. "I don't think that's necessary anymore," Lily said stiffly. "If you could just return my things to me, I would be delighted to take myself back to England."

Jean shook his head slowly, eyes on Lily all the while. "I'm afraid not, Miss Evans."

Lily stopped and stared. "What??"

"We can't let you go anywhere, now," Jean said. "I've told you a lot of things about our organization that no outsider—hopefully!—knows. AND you now know about the missing pensieve. Oh, no, Miss Evans, I couldn't possibly let you go home now. You must know that as soon as you were confronted by my associates last night, you have become a target."

"A target?? To whom? And what?"

"A target to those who want to get their hands on the pensieve…or who might already have it in their possession. Did I forget to mention this to you? Since the pensieve disappeared, our numbers have been decreasing steadily."

Lily sat with her mouth wide open in shock.

"Don't worry," Jean said, a sardonic smile twisting his mouth. "I won't let anything happen to you. But all the same…you'll have to stay here for now."

He opened the door. As he left, he called over his shoulder, "We'll be moving to a bigger flat shortly. Until then, though, we might have to continue sharing a bed." He shut the door behind him before Lily could begin to yell.

Lily woke the next morning shivering. She had forced Jean, on pain of castration, to move to the sofa and let her have the bed. However, there weren't enough blankets for the both of them, and she seemed to have gotten the worse end of the deal; the wool coverlet that had looked so warm the evening before was really not so great. She looked over at Jean, sleeping on the sofa, and scowled. He looked perfectly warm and comfortable.

As if he knew she was thinking about him, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Sleep well?"

"No," she said bluntly, still shivering. "Do you think I could get a warmer nightgown? And maybe some more CLOTHES?"

"Your wish is my command," he said, getting out of bed and leaving the room.

"I wish he wouldn't just leave like that…" she muttered.

"I didn't mean 'buy the whole boutique'!" Lily shrieked.

She and Jean had just arrived at Jean's new flat. Apparently, he had lived in a small, one-bedroom apartment by choice, not for lack of funds. The new place was spacious and lavishly furnished. In the center of her room was a pile of boxes taller than she was, and she recognized some names of fashionable (and expensive!) clothiers printed on their sides.

"WHAT a waste of money!" she ranted, turning to Jean, her eyes flashing.

He simply smiled at her and shrugged. "You might have to stay here for a long time." He turned away, hands in his pockets. "Besides, like I said earlier, it's not like I lack the funds."

"That's not the point!" she stared helplessly at the pile of boxes. "I don't want to rely on you for everything!"

"But I like having you rely on me for everything," he said. Something in the tone of his voice made her look at him sharply, but his eyes slid away from her gaze.

There was a tense silence.

"Anyway," said Lily finally, a little more calmly, "it's not like I can go out, so no one will see the clothes I wear anyway. Besides you."

"Besides me," he agreed.

"And don't you have to go out sometime, too?" she demanded. "You haven't gone further than 10 meters from me at any given time within the last few days. Don't you have better things to do than sit around and watch me?"

He grinned—the adorable, lopsided grin that made her heart skip a beat once again. "No," he replied, as he leaned against the doorframe. "No better things to do than sit around and watch you."

It was a simple enough statement. But something about the way he said it made her blush. She turned abruptly to hide it and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3: Dining Out

A/N: Okay, I feel I ought to explain the long time between updates. So put simply, it's this: within the past four months, I have moved to another country; gotten a new computer; started at a new school; gotten new…everything, basically! I only came with one big suitcase, a box, and a backpack, so I've had to buy everything else necessary. Soon as I finished moving, school started, and between settling into my new apartment and figuring out how the school system works here (as well as getting lost more times than I can remember), I've just been way too busy to update. Besides which, I didn't have any of my notes or the comic that I based this story on to help keep me on track. AND I didn't have a word processor. But yes, now I'm back with all the things I need, so you should be seeing an end to this story sometime soon…hopefully. (Actually, I've got a presentation for a thesis type thing this coming week, so I probably won't update before next week.) I _really_ appreciated everyone's reviews, though—I finally checked my email yesterday and weeded through the spam to find them. :D Much thanks!!! Keep the comments coming!

Disclaimer: Chiho Saito/JK Rowling. Ain't mine.

* * *

**Chapter 3 – Dining Out**

After an initial period of incomprehension, irrational hatred, and aggravation, Lily found herself slowly mellowing toward the idea of having to stay in France with Jean, at least temporarily. She no longer shouted obscenities at him whenever she caught him watching her (which was often), and the threats to make sure future generations of Laurants would no longer be possible (with a threatening brandish of the wand) went from frequently, to daily, to not at all. Perhaps Jean went out of his way to be especially charming—or Lily simply reconciled herself to the situation—regardless, whatever it was, it was working well toward general peace and harmony. Lily actually had quite a few good conversations with him, having finally resolved to make the best of this confinement…and Jean was clever, well-read, kind, and funny in his own way—if the situation had just been different, Lily sometimes thought, she and he might even…

That's where she always stopped. The fact remained that the situation _wasn't_ different, and it would be stupid to dream up possibilities for what-ifs and might-have-beens. Jean was tied to his country and to his activities there, while Lily couldn't possibly tear herself away from her own work back in Britain. If the situation wasn't resolved in due time, Lily calculated, she would have to go back, whatever the risk.

After several days of lounging about the house with nothing in particular to do and only Jean to talk to, though, Lily was getting restless. She enjoyed Jean's company, but…it was hard to see the sun and the bustling streets through the windows and not be able to go out and enjoy them herself.

"What harm would it do," Lily said out of the blue one afternoon, as she paced between sofa and window, "if I were to go out as a common Muggle? I was Muggle-born, after all, so I can take care of myself…"

Jean was lounging in an armchair by the fire with a book, though he cast occasional glances in Lily's direction when he thought she wasn't looking. At her comment, he shut his book and looked at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Don't tell me you aren't getting restless too!" Lily exclaimed, noticing his intent gaze. "Oh, wait—YOU get to go out!"

"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?" Jean asked quietly.

"Don't give me those excuses—what??" Lily stopped mid-rant to stare at Jean dubiously. "Did you just say what I think you said…?"

"Yes," Jean replied, getting up to leave the room. "I'll have the house-elf bring you something to wear and help you prepare."

Since when did Jean have house-elves? Lily cocked an eyebrow. These must be some really good house-elves…she hadn't seen a trace of one since she came, and she hadn't stirred a foot from the house for the past…far too long. Intrigued by the suddenness and marked ambiguity of this "dinner" event, Lily found herself at a loss for words and went to her room to prepare, rather perplexed.

* * *

"Are you SURE I won't be recognized?" she asked for the hundredth time.

The house-elf had dressed her in a set of revealing evening robes of the softest material Lily had ever felt. The garment glimmered soft gold in some lights, copper in others, and was held on by the thinnest, barest of straps and ribbons. Lily had by no means been conservative back home, but _this—_this dress on her was simply lascivious.

To add to the effect, the house-elf had twisted her hair into an elaborate updo with shining golden baubles and combs entwined with the strands. She had then proceeded to lighten it by several shades, emphasizing the gold in Lily's red-gold hair, and finished by applying a thick coat of makeup to Lily's face. The end result, while not hideous (as Lily had imagined it would be), was definitely different from anything Lily had tried on herself before. This style was more bold than elegant; flashy and not refined at all.

"Yes, I'm sure." Jean answered her for the hundredth time with infinite patience.

"I can't believe you're making me wear THIS out," Lily grumbled, looking down at her attire. "It's so…so…skimpy!! Are you sure this is what the other women at this dinner party will be wearing? Absolutely SURE??"

"Yes, this is what they wear in our society," he replied, smiling slightly. Lily wondered what, exactly, 'our society' meant. "Trust me." He took her cloak for that evening from the wardrobe—a deep red velvet affair with strangely delicate shirring and golden embroidery about the neck and bottom hem—and settled it gently about her shoulders. "You look beautiful."

Lily blushed slightly at the compliment and felt her discomfort slowly ebb away. She helped him draw the edges of the cloak more snugly around her. "Thank you," she murmured, pulling at the strings that would tie at her collarbone. Jean turned her around and began to help her tie them. Their fingers brushed and Lily was startled by the shock of contact, abruptly dropping the strings in her hands. If Jean noticed her sudden movement, he made no sign of doing so and finished securing her cloak without further comment.

He put his own cloak on quickly, and then offered Lily his arm with an endearing smile. "Shall we?"

Lily found herself smiling back. _I'm giddy from the knowledge that I'm FINALLY going out, that's all._ She took his arm and he apparated them away.

* * *

They arrived in the lobby of what looked to be a gorgeous luxury hotel. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the glitter of gold was everywhere. People clustered throughout the room, talking and sipping champagne. The men wore dark robes of rich materials, while the women were dressed much as Lily was—bright and flashy, bejeweled and painted within an inch of their lives, like ornamental flowers.

A shout went up as Jean and Lily made their entrance, after having their cloaks taken from them by house-elf attendants. Everyone seemed to know Jean, and it felt to Lily as though hordes of people suddenly descended upon them, clapping Jean on the shoulder and back while shaking his hand.

"And who's this?" a cry sounded, as Jean drew Lily's hand through the crook of his arm.

A stern-looking wizard looked Lily up and down slowly without the slightest bit of shame and, with a glitter in his eye, hooked a finger under her chin, raising her face. "And who might you be? Where did you come from?"

"I—" Lily found herself tongue-tied. She wanted to smash her head against the nearest hard surface. Why hadn't they thought to come up with a convincing background for her, if she was supposed to be in hiding?? She should have thought of something—a false name, at least, and a new native country.

"She's mine," came a cool reply, as Lily felt herself being pulled close to Jean. He smiled but his eyes pleaded with Lily to play along as he bent to kiss her softly right below her ear. "I discovered her when she was quite young, a poor orphan girl on the streets, and trained her up myself…isn't she lovely?"

Catcalls and cries went up from Jean's friends, along with calls of, "No wonder you've been too busy for us lately! Finally decided to let her out of her box, hey?"

"Ignore them," Jean murmured, as his lips grazed her cheek.

That wouldn't be hard, if he continued with what he was doing, a little voice in Lily's head sniggered.

"Oh stop it," she said aloud, trying to silence it.

Jean abruptly let go of her and his expression turned icy. "I have to go talk to some of the others…wait for me by the pillar, I'll come get you." With that, he turned and strode off.

Lily wandered slowly to the pillar, wondering what that was about. Someone handed her a small lace fan and she brandished it like a screen to hide her face, noticing that some of the other women had done likewise. What _was_ this place? This event?

A house-elf offered her some pink champagne and she took a glass, grateful for something to do. She didn't know anyone, and it wouldn't be wise to simply go about talking when she didn't even have a story for herself thought up. Perhaps that's what she should do while she waited for Jean to return…

She didn't know how long she stood by the pillar, sipping from her glass and waving her fan languidly in front of her face and thinking about what she should say and whether she would ever be able to go home. When she finally became sensible of her surroundings she noticed a couple standing _very_ close together in front of a neighboring pillar. She looked closer and realized—the man was Jean! He and the woman—a petite brunette—were deep in discussion. Then they kissed—and it was by no means just a friendly kiss—and then the woman walked off with a wave of her hand and a merry laugh, to join another man by the doorway.

Jean turned towards her and Lily glared at him. How dare he! He dressed her and described her to his friends as if—as if she were some sort of courtesan, owned by him exclusively, and then he _left _her so he could go off and flirt with other women??

She glared daggers at him again and fanned herself angrily. Well, so what! He wasn't tied to her, any more than she was tied to him! She just wanted to go back to Britain after all, not to get involved with a cocky, irritating—

Just then she heard him calling—was it to her?—and turned, prepared to give him a piece of her mind. That's when she noticed that—there were two Jeans?!?!

"_Twins??_" she couldn't help bursting out, incredulously.

The Jean she'd seen by the pillar with the brunette was still standing at the pillar, looking at her with a mystified expression on his face. Meanwhile, the Jean she'd come with—and now she could see that he was wearing a different shade of robe than the other Jean—was walking toward her from behind the other man. She noticed on more careful inspection that there were subtle differences in their features…but really, they were just too similar…

The two men turned and noticed each other's presence, and both pairs of eyes widened.

"You—" they both said in unison.

* * *

"This really is amazing!" Jean said for perhaps the tenth time in a row, as he sipped his champagne and gazed across the table at a man who could nearly have been his mirror image.

"It is!" The other man, James Potter, agreed, smiling. He had the same lopsided grin that Jean had, Lily noticed from behind her golden fan.

James Potter happened to work for the Defense League back in Britain. Lily remembered him from Hogwarts very vaguely…he had been Head Boy a few years ahead of her, and they'd had very little interaction despite her having been a prefect. Though he was in Defense under Terrence, they worked in different departments and on different projects, which was why they never saw each other at work. Which was good thing, Lily supposed, otherwise he'd recognize her.

"So what brings a British wizard like yourself to France?" Jean asked, as he grasped Lily's hand under the table and squeezed reassuringly.

"Oh, we're working on some connections in the French Auror forces…I'm working as a sort of ambassador right now." James' smile left his face as he gazed at the glass in his hand. "I'm also supposed to be looking for any clues as to the disappearance of one of our members…It seems that Carruthers, our chief, had a daughter or adopted daughter of some sort who was stopping by France on a mission for him…she was supposed to be back last week and hasn't returned yet, and he can't seem to reach her."

"No one knows what happened to her?" Jean asked, squeezing Lily's hand again. She held her fan closer to her face, just in case James should see and recognize her.

"No, there has been no news whatsoever. It's a tough blow for the old man—she was all he had left, you know. He's quite frantic."

Lily felt a pang of guilt. She should have found a way to contact Terrence—regardless of risks or consequences—if only to let him know she was all right and in hiding! She _was _the only thing he had left…and he had a weak heart. What if something should happen…? She turned her head slightly and looked at Jean, who, she found, was watching her intently. The look in his eyes of intense longing and sorrow quickly disappeared as he noticed her gaze upon him. She wondered if she had just imagined that expression on his face…

"That's unfortunate," Jean said softly. "Did you know her?"

"No, I never met her," James said. "From everything I've heard, she was a brilliant witch—and beautiful! You've really got to feel for Terrence… it's horrifying to think she's disappeared without a trace. We've got people looking into it now, but no luck so far."

"I'm sure she'll turn up," Jean said. "Call it a certain gut sense…but I think she'll survive whatever it is she's going through now, unscathed."

"I certainly hope so." James finished the last of his drink and stood. "Well—it was wonderful to meet you! I can't believe we look so much alike. I've got to go, though—more urgent business to take care of tonight." He grinned and shook hands with Jean again. Then he offered a hand to Lily. "And you, Miss—ah—"

"Leila," Jean cut in smoothly. "Leila Auteuil.."

"Mlle. Auteuil, a pleasure to meet you too."

"Likewise," Lily allowed James to kiss her hand gallantly. He winked at her, then walked away.

She released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

"He didn't recognize you at all," Jean told her, his expression blank.

"I know," she replied. Suddenly coming out for dinner didn't seem like such a wonderful idea after all.

* * *

They were walking home from a nearby apparition point when Jean spoke again. They were arm in arm, somehow, and had been walking in companionable silence.

"Carruthers…one can't help but feel for him," Jean said, his voice cutting through the air.

Lily glanced over at him, but the expression on his face was unreadable in the moonlight.

"His last bit of 'family,' gone…" Jean looked out at the empty streets unseeingly. "It makes me feel so lonely."

"Lonely?" Lily asked.

"Yes… as soon as we find that pensieve, you'll leave me behind you, just like you'll discard those robes you're wearing tonight…and go back to England…back to a world where I won't belong…"

"Jean…" Lily started.

"Shh," Jean said, and clasped her hand. Lily fell silent—after all, what could she say? _I must leave him soon,_ was all she could think.

They walked the rest of the way home without saying another word.


End file.
